


Nine Lives, Four Paws, Two Ears, One Bilbo - Or: It Started With A Cup Of Tea

by alkjira



Series: Animal AUs [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Transformation, Gandalf Is Always A Wizard, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“It'll be very good for you, and most amusing for me."</em> </p><p>Those were the words that heralded Bilbo Baggins’ transformation into a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [overtherisingstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/overtherisingstar/gifts).



> Prompt by overtherisingstar 
> 
> I didn’t follow the prompt to the letter, hope you’ll think it’s okay?
> 
> (Why are titles horrible? Why?)

_“It'll be very good for you, and most amusing for me."_

Those were the words that heralded Bilbo Baggins’ transformation into a cat. If he had known that his mother’s old friend was an actual Wizard (as opposed to thinking that his mother had always called him a wizard because he always seemed to show up and get things done just when he was really needed) it was possible that Bilbo would have rephrased a few things he’d said shortly before being turned into a cat.

When Gandalf had said that Bilbo needed to stop secluding himself from the rest of the world, and accused him of treating himself like a pampered house cat, perhaps Bilbo shouldn’t have said that he saw no problem with such an existence.  
  
He also probably shouldn’t have told Gandalf that someone who had worn the same hat for at least the last thirty odd years (a hat which _clearly_ had seen better days) should not throw stones at someone who appreciated the comfort and familiarity of a routine.  
  
But Bilbo hadn't known. And now it was much to late to ask to rephrase certain things.  
  
Somewhat in shock (and who could blame him) Bilbo looked up at Gandalf; whose head seemed to be a considerable longer distance away from the floor than usual, and meowed.  
  
The meow shocked him almost as much as the feeling of shrinking and _changing_ had.

“Yes, this will do quite nicely,” Gandalf murmured. “Don’t worry, Bilbo my lad, it’s only temporary. And I’ll inform someone to come and collect you, and make all the necessary arrangements, don’t worry about that either. I’ll see you in a month’s time, and then we might discuss if you’d like to stay like this or if you have perhaps grown to see my point.”  
  
Bilbo meowed again and tried to walk after Gandalf as he moved towards the door, but having four legs instead of two posed somewhat of a challenge, not to mention that having a tail was awfully confusing, and before Bilbo had sorted himself out Gandalf had collected his hat (and the grey old thing _really_ had seen better days) and was closing the door behind himself.  
  
Disgruntled Bilbo plopped his furry little behind down on the carpet and glared up at the door knob.  
  
He’d not even thanked-  
  
The door opened  
  
“Oh, and thank you for the tea.”  
  
The door closed again, well before Bilbo had had a chance to follow.  
  
Well, _bugger_.  
  
-  
  
It was several hours before anyone showed up, which meant that there was plenty of time for Bilbo to think about what exactly had just happened. But not quite enough time for him to think of a way to undo it.  
  
When the door finally opened he was at least sensible enough to not rush out and immediately get hit by a car. (Not that the car part had ever been part of a plan, but the rushing out bit might have been….)  
  
Yes, he’d thought about escaping (escaping from his own house, what a marvellous situation to find oneself in…) and go about tracking down Gandalf, but Bilbo really didn’t rate his chance of success very high. No one ever found Gandalf unless he wanted to be found, Belladonna used to say, and now with the knowledge that Gandalf apparently could do magic Bilbo was very much inclined to believe his mother.  
  
Also, he really didn’t want to end up like a stray on the streets. He’d probably not last even a week seeing how he really seemed to be a rather small cat. Not a kitten, but you’d be able to fit about three of him on a regular sized kitchen chair. One of the wild dogs would probably eat him whole and that would be that.  
  
No. He would save running away as a plan just in case the person Gandalf would send turned out to be a horrible and cruel one. But surely he or she _wouldn’t_ be, because the point of this had been for him to be a _pampered_ house cat, yes?  
  
Bilbo curled up into a somewhat anxious ball when he heard someone put a key into the front door (and where had Gandalf gotten the key from anyway? Was he a _pickpocket_ on top of being a Wizard?) and observed the person entering with a fair bit of suspicion in his hazel eyes.  
  
The person was a tall dark-haired man, with an equally dark beard, wearing a _very_ grumpy expression and Bilbo shrank back against the wall. The slight movement was enough to draw the man’s attention, but Bilbo’s nerves were slightly settled when the man’s face softened and he crouched down to make himself appear smaller (didn’t really work though, he still seemed massive compared to Bilbo).  
  
“Looks more like a kitten to me,” he murmured, and Bilbo’s tail bristled. He wasn’t a kitten, thank you very much. He wasn’t even a cat. He opened his mouth to tell the rude stranger exactly that, but what came out was of course only more meows, if very disgruntled sounding ones.

“Come here, Bilbo,” the man called, stretching out one hand with the palm up. Bilbo sniffed and stayed right where he was. He wasn’t a dog either. Although…  
  
The man-turned-cat quickly reconsidered, well, not the dog part. But if he needed someone to take care of him until this wore off, because it _had_ to wear off, then perhaps it would be better not to get on that someone’s bad side. And this person did have nice eyes, kind ones, even if he had seemed rather grumpy at first.  
  
And there was also one other reason as to why Bilbo didn’t want the man to leave him. If he left it was quite possible that no one else would stop by to notice that there was now a cat living by himself in a house where there had so far only been a man living.  
  
It was possible that it would take more than a month for someone to notice that Bilbo was missing.  
  
And it was that realisation that led Bilbo to trot up to the man’s hand, and which also alerted him to how Gandalf might have had a point about not secluding himself so much from the rest of the world. But surely he could have made this point without turning him into a cat. If Bilbo had already figured it out, then surely a bit more tea and conversation would have helped more than getting fur would?

“Very careless of your owner to just leave you like this,” the man muttered as he scooped Bilbo up with big, warm hands. Being scooped was a new experience and Bilbo was not surprised that his stomach fluttered somewhat when he was settled against a firm chest, one big hand still supporting him.  
  
Without meaning to his claws had made an appearance, and Bilbo winced and quickly tried to pull them away from the man’s shirt. It was a spectacular failure and all he succeeded with was to pull at the shirt and make it flap in a fairly deranged manner.  
  
“Kitten,” the man muttered darkly, but big fingers gently helped Bilbo get his claws out of the shirt so he could retract them, and Bilbo decided to overlook the kitten comment for now.

The man-turned-cat looked up into pale blue eyes and tried to communicate how he wasn’t actually a cat and how Gandalf was a big, grey trickster and how this was completely insane.  
  
When two fingers scritched behind his ears Bilbo sighed and accepted that turning into a cat had apparently not given him telepathic abilities. And then he startled himself quite badly by beginning to purr.  
  
-  
  
Getting stuffed into a cat carrier and loaded into a car was a horrible and deeply upsetting experience and Bilbo tucked himself into a corner of the carrier and tried to put his paws into his ears. The car was just so _loud_. Not just the engine, but also the sound from the tires against the ground and the wind outside and the radio and everything.  
  
When the noise finally stopped all Bilbo could do was to let out a truly pitiful meow and hope that someone would kill him before he had to do that again. Then the carrier was lifted and Bilbo curled himself up even tighter because as it was being carried it swayed a little and he could feel himself beginning to get sea sick.  
  
By some miracle he managed not to throw up, and soon enough the carrier was set back down on solid, _blessedly_ solid and quiet, ground again. Bilbo meowed, just to prove to himself that he was alive as much as anything else.

“Thorin what have you done to the poor thing?” came a female voice.  
  
“I’ve not done anything,” the man who had collected him; Thorin said defensively. “I think he’s not used to travelling.”  
  
The latch on the cage was undone and the flap was opened, Bilbo tried to move even further into the corner because he really didn’t want anyone touching him at the moment or there might still be an accident.  
  
A pair of pale blue eyes, though not the same as before, peered in at him and then widened in surprise.  
  
“He’s just a kitten! Of course he’s not used to-“  
  
“Gandalf _said_ he was fully grown.” Bilbo did _not_ appreciate the sceptical tone of voice that was said in. “I- _ow_.”  
  
“Serves you right,” the woman said and there was a second dull slap of someone’s palm smacking the back of someone’s head. “He seems _terrified_.”  
  
Well, it wasn’t everyday someone turned you into a _cat_. Never mind the other stuff.  
  
“He didn’t like the car. But what was I supposed to do? His owner lived across the bloody town.”  
  
The woman ignored him. “Poor darling, first you’re left alone, and then this brute comes and snatches you up and into the monstrosity he calls a car-“  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with my car.”  
  
“But don’t worry, you’ll like it here. And we’ll leave you alone until you feel like coming out. Thorin, go and open a can of tuna. He’s probably hungry as well. I’ll get one of the toys Gandalf left.”  
  
Toys? Oh dear lord. Bilbo put both his front paws over his tiny, furry face.  
  
-  
  
True to her word, the woman and Thorin left him alone after placing something porcelain sounding and very delicious smelling outside next to the carrier, and after considering his circumstances for a while Bilbo did decide to go out. He couldn’t very well spend a month in a cat carrier now, could he.  
  
Leaving the carrier meant finding that he was actually in a hallway, albeit a very, very big one. Or was this just a case of being smaller again? Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure. But there seemed to be an inordinate amount of boots and coats and things everywhere. And it _smelled_ big, somehow.  
  
He wasn’t really hungry since his stomach still seemed to think that the floor might at any second start rolling again, but he sniffed at the tuna that had been left for him and noted that it seemed to smell a lot nicer than it usually did. Realising that he was thirsty he did drink some of the water left for him, or, tried to anyway.  
  
Putting his mouth into the bowl earned him nothing but water up his nose, and the tongue thing was a lot trickier than cats had made it seem.

After having, more or less, sated his thirst, Bilbo didn’t really know what to do. All the doors he could see were closed, and, oh _no_.  
  
Heart sinking Bilbo walked up to the litter box. He’d forgotten about this part of being a cat. Was it possible to ignore certain bodily functions for a month? Bilbo was inclined to vote yes on general principle.  
  
Gandalf was so going to get a taste of Bilbo’s claws if he would happen upon him before the month was up.  
  
It occurred to Bilbo that he was perhaps taking being turned into a cat a little too calmly. But he wasn’t really sure what the appropriate reaction _should_ be. It wasn’t like anything like this had happened to him before. And he did consider himself to be a sensible person. (Here Bilbo ignored how he’d spent almost twenty minutes of the time before Thorin had shown up beneath the couch, hyperventilating.)  
  
He just had to make the best of the situation, and hope that Gandalf hadn’t been lying about the one month thing.

-  
  
When one of the doors opened again Bilbo had curled himself up on top of the carrier, tail tucked neatly around his paws.  
  
It was fairly interesting to have a tail if Bilbo was honest about it. He almost liked it. It was rather like having someone around even when he was alone. Someone who liked to cuddle.  
  
“Hey, baby,” the woman from before said warmly, opening the door completely when she saw that he’d left the carrier. A scoff came from behind her.  
  
“Gandalf said that his name was _Bilbo_.”  
  
Bilbo felt his ears twitch at the sound of his name in that smooth, dark voice. It was a rather nice voice. That was all. Bilbo felt inclined to blame his new ears. While they were not a new experience in the same way tail was, they might as well have been considering how different they were from what he was used to. He could hear _everything_.  
  
At least it was nice to know that _all_ new audible experiences wouldn’t be horrible, like the car had been.

“And your name is Thorin, and not ‘giant arse’, but see if I care.”  
  
They both stopped a respectable distance away from Bilbo and the woman crouched down. “Wanna come and say hi, pretty baby?"  
  
On general principle Bilbo promised to _never_ talk like that to another animal, ever.  
  
“Dís,” the man protested, obviously agreeing with Bilbo.  
  
“Shush, you scared him, you don’t get to have an opinion.”  
  
“ _I_ didn’t scare him, the car scared him.”  
  
So these two had to either be married or they were brother and sister. Considering how they both had dark hair, pale blue eyes and were both tall and broad-shouldered the latter seemed more likely. Well, that or they were more than a bit narcissistic.  
  
When the woman pulled out a toy mouse and dangled it playfully in front of her Bilbo couldn’t help but to look at the man, Thorin, in a pleading manner. Was she really serious?  
  
“Mworw,” Bilbo said, trying to convey something like ‘thanks but no thanks’.  
  
“There is ham in the kitchen,” Thorin said drily. “If you’d care to join us.”  
  
Ham? Bilbo’s ears twitched again. He still wasn’t hungry, but he did want to get out of the hallway, and away from that creepy looking mouse. And it couldn’t hurt to check out the ham. For future reference.  
  
He got to his feet, all four of them, and managed to jump down from the carrier without making a fool of himself. (Bilbo had already learnt that the bit about a cat always landing on their feet was a damned _lie_.)  
  
As he trotted up to Thorin he could feel his tail perking up more and more until it was a happy exclamation mark.

“Meow?” Bilbo asked, meaning, ‘okay, now what?’ But which Thorin apparently interpreted as ‘please carry me’ going by how Bilbo suddenly found himself in a much elevated position.  
  
“He’s _not_ scared,” Thorin said smugly to Dís, who huffed and reached out a hand for Bilbo to smell.  
  
At least that’s what he imagined that he was supposed to do since she didn’t try and touch him, but her hand hovered just by his head. Without really meaning to Bilbo turned his head to look up at Thorin again. Was he _really_ meant to smell the hand?  
  
“And apparently he likes me better,” Thorin continued, and now the smugness practically oozed out of him.

This time when the same fingers as before came up to scratch his ear Bilbo was at least prepared for the purring to start.  
  
-  
  
The next couple of days were… interesting.

The less said about the litter box the better. And the same regarding the toys that Dís kept trying to tempt him with (though the good thing to come out of that was that both she and Thorin admitted that he probably wasn’t a kitten after all).  
  
Thorin and Dís were indeed siblings, and living together with them in the house were also a veritable _crowd_ of other people. They ranged from Dís’ husband and children to other family members to other people who didn’t seem to be married, nor related, to anyone but who nevertheless appeared to live there. At least from time to time. It was lucky the house was big.  
  
Only twice during the introductions (which weren’t _actual_ introductions of course since everyone seemed to think that he was a cat that belonged to a friend of Gandalf’s, and you didn’t introduce yourself to the cat so it took ages for Bilbo to connect faces to the right names) did Bilbo get a bit apprehensive.  
  
The first time was when Dís children appeared, because children and cats could very well end with tails being pulled and Bilbo would not be in favour of such a thing, not at _all_.  
  
Thankfully, the boys were a bit… unruly, yes, but not cruel, and after Dís had made them wash their sticky little hands they were also excellent petters. And they sneaked him treats whenever they could. Very nice boys to sum it up.  
  
The second time was when a… well, he was either a colleague of Thorin’s or a cousin, or both, Bilbo was still trying to work out the details, but anyway, his name was Dwalin, and when he’d come into the living room and seen Bilbo lying on the couch the man-turned-cat had perhaps meeped a little in nervousness because Dwalin had been wearing a truly fierce-looking scowl.  
  
Something about him screamed _predator_! to the part of Bilbo’s brain that _should_ have been a cat but had apparently had turned into something like a sheep instead, and Bilbo curled himself up tightly to try and look small and unthreatening. (Not that he knew how to go about making himself look big and dangerous, but still.)  
  
The big man took a seat on the couch next to Bilbo, he turned his head, looked down on him, and said:  
  
“What a pretty kitty you are.”  
  
Then he reached out a truly massive hand and very gently scratched Bilbo beneath the chin.

About twenty minutes later when Thorin walked in to find them Bilbo was lying in Dwalin’s lap, purring like a race car because Dwalin’s hands were big enough to pet his entire belly all at once and it was _lovely_.  
  
“Guess who he likes best now,” Dwalin said smugly, and Bilbo noted that down as a point into the ‘relative’ column because being smug did seem to be a family trait.  
  
-  
  
If anyone would have _asked_ , Bilbo’s favourite was actually Thorin.  
  
Despite calling him a kitten and such at the beginning, Bilbo had quickly begun to think that Thorin somehow knew that he wasn’t really a cat. He certainly treated him as someone a lot more intelligent than a cat, both carrying on conversations and expecting Bilbo to understand when he told him to go into the kitchen and other little things like that.  
  
Fine, so Thorin probably considered him an unusually clever cat, but from that it should have been easy to transition into ‘enchanted human’, right? Bilbo certainly thought so. But the problem seemed to be that Thorin just wasn’t all that... bright at times.  
  
This was also a potential family trait.  
  
Naturally, one of the first things Bilbo had tried to do after he’d realised that no one in the house was about to do something horrible like eat cats for breakfast, was to try and tell them that he wasn’t actually a cat. (Perhaps he should have tried to do this already _before_ making sure that he wasn’t about to get eaten, because if they were cat eaters then they wouldn’t really want him, but well, hindsight was always 20/20.)  
  
He couldn’t write (thumbs was really something you missed when you didn’t have them), no one had been kind enough to leave a game of Scrabble lying around, and the attempt to steal a string and then try and arrange it into letters had been horribly frustrating and he’d not gotten beyond a B for Bilbo before Dís had swooped in and reclaimed the string, scolding him that he wasn’t allowed to eat it because that just wasn’t good for little cat bellies. She’d given him some salmon instead and that had only cheered him up somewhat.  
  
Bilbo would have tried something to do with Morse code, but he only knew S O S and when he’d tried meowing that people had indeed paid attention to him, but instead of realising that he was actually a man trapped in the shape of a cat, everyone had thought that he’d been sick, or hurt somehow. (Not from understanding that he was doing the international signal of distress, no, but apparently yowling was what cats did when they weren’t happy, go figure.)  
  
Thorin had just been about to call the vet when Bilbo realised that the S O S was not going to work and turned the next meow into a deep sigh. He started purring when Thorin scooped him up, but to be entirely honest, most of what Thorin did made Bilbo begin to purr.  
  
It was perhaps not _entirely_ out of the question that he’d developed a rather inconvenient crush on the man.  
  
It was entirely Thorin’s own fault. Not only did he walk around without a shirt a lot (Bilbo was only human- well, okay, so that didn’t really apply anymore, but _still_ ) he also talked to Bilbo about anything and everything and the man exposed by those conversations was really someone Bilbo _liked_. Someone he wanted to get to know even better.  
  
It made him feel very guilty though, both the accidental (and not so accidental) ogling, and how Thorin shared things with him which he clearly wouldn’t have confided to anyone he’d just met if he’d thought that they truly understood what he was saying.  
  
Things like how he wasn’t sure he liked his job but how he didn’t feel like he could quit since so many people depended on him. How he wanted to travel and see more of the world. How he felt lonely sometimes, despite never really being alone.  
  
The guilt eventually got bad enough for Bilbo to try and avoid Thorin, but that only made him feel more guilty for depriving Thorin of his confidant, especially since he could _smell_ the sadness coming from him when Bilbo hurriedly left a room when he entered. Eventually he gave up and with an exasperated huff set about finding Thorin in the truly ridiculously big house.  
  
He discovered him in the upstairs study, one of Bilbo’s favourite rooms in the house while at the same time being the most frustrating one because he couldn’t _read_ any of the books there. But they all smelled brilliant.  
  
On silent paws Bilbo trotted into the room and hesitantly stretched up to place his front paws on Thorin’s knees, to see if he would still be welcome.  
  
“Hello, little one,” Thorin said with a sigh, leaning down to rub behind Bilbo’s ears with two fingers. “Thought you’d gotten tired of me.”  
  
‘I’m sorry,’ Bilbo tried to say, but of course what came out was just a slightly sad meow. He jumped up, and tucked himself between the book Thorin had been reading and the man’s stomach and allowed the purr to start rumbling through his body. (As if he had a choice.)  
  
 _If you could just be a little less handsome and a little less, you, then we wouldn’t have this problem_ , he thought.  
  
Because while Thorin would be completely out of his league had they both been human, it was doubly awkward considering how Bilbo was now a cat.  
  
But despite it being awkward he wanted to be able to give Thorin what little he could. And it did seem as if Thorin enjoyed his company, and the petting. And their… talks, even if they were mostly one sided.  
  
Though it really would help if Thorin didn’t sleep naked. This Bilbo had realised the first time he’d fallen asleep in Thorin’s bedroom and woken up the next morning to the sight of a very, very naked Thorin wandering sleepily across the room towards the bathroom.  
  
Bilbo had ended up beneath a blanket, his treacherous whatever purring like mad. (No seriously, he had no clue what made the purring happen, did cats have a specific organ to provide it or what?)  
  
-  
  
No matter how strange it might sound, Bilbo soon found himself slipping into a new routine, and before he knew it, it was only a few days to go before the month would be over. 

“I’m really going to miss you when you have to go back,” Thorin murmured one night as he was stroking the flat of his hand over Bilbo’s back with hypnotising regularity.  
  
“Mrmph,” Bilbo purred dreamily, trying to flatten himself out so that there would be more of him for Thorin to pet, and that’s when the meaning of Thorin’s words sank in.  
  
Go back. As in _turning_ back, even if Thorin didn’t know it.

He’d never see any of them again, because he could hardly invite himself back for tea and just casually let it slip that 'oh, by the way, I was the cat that stayed with you for almost a month, hello'.  
  
He’d never see Thorin again. Unless he turned really pathetic and figured out where they all lived and started stalking them.  
  
Internally giggling in a slightly hysterical manner Bilbo wondered if Gandalf would consider that a better use of his days compared to sitting inside and reading.  
  
“Hey,” Thorin asked softly. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Startled Bilbo blinked up at Thorin.  
  
“You’ve stopped purring,” Thorin added.  
  
Oh, blast. Bilbo tried to think purring thoughts but it didn’t work. Also, that right there was why this crush wouldn’t go away. Thorin seemed genuinely concerned about him, about a cat. He rather endearingly asked a question as if he truly expected to get a reply. And he had the prettiest bluest eyes Bilbo had ever seen.  
  
Okay, so the last bit might not have been quite as objectively relevant as the first two. But still.  
  
To never see Thorin again…  
  
“Mrow,” Bilbo said with a morose sigh. Suddenly he felt a renewed urge to get his claws into Gandalf. _And_ his stupid hat.  
  
-  
  
It had been the 21 st of March when he’d had tea with Gandalf and on the morning of the 21st of April Bilbo woke in a horrible mood, ignored all such words as propriety and common decency and jumped into bed with Thorin to curl up in the crook where his neck and shoulder met.  
  
While settling there Bilbo discovered that cats could purr when they were sad as well. It was not quite the same sound, but hopefully Thorin wouldn't know the difference.  
  
Gandalf would undoubtedly arrive during the day and then-  
  
“Good morning,” Thorin said, his voice huskier than normal from just having woken up and Bilbo curled himself up a little tighter still. And then there’d be no more mornings like this, ever again.  
  
Bilbo rubbed his cheek against Thorin’s beard and sighed. And then he made a series protesting merp as Thorin moved him to lie on his chest.  
  
“You’ve been-“  
  
Thorin didn’t get any further than that before he suddenly had a once again human-shaped Bilbo lying on his chest. Quite luckily Bilbo wasn’t all that big even as a human, so Thorin wasn’t crushed.  
  
Quite unluckily… yes, we’ll go with unluckily, Bilbo was very aware that Thorin slept naked, and he also had a deep suspicion that when Gandalf had transformed him, it had left a pile of clothes on the floor. A quick glance at himself confirmed that, yes, he was quite naked indeed.  
  
But when Bilbo tried to move away Thorin’s arms came up to prevent that.  
  
“You- where is my kitten?”  
  
“I’m not a _kitten_ ,” Bilbo said, and oh it was such a relief to finally get to actually _say_ it.  
  
“Well, obviously,” Thorin said, eyes narrowing. “Where’s Bilbo?”

“I’m Bilbo.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Bilbo is a cat.”  
  
“No. I _was_ a cat. But I was a human first. Then Gandalf turned me into a cat. It’s all Gandalf’s fault really.” Bilbo nodded encouragingly and tried to wriggle away from Thorin. He only succeeded in _rubbing_ himself _against_ Thorin and stopped, a flush rising to his cheeks.

“Could you please let me go?”  
  
“Where is my kitten?”  
  
“I was your kitten! Only, I wasn’t a _kitten_.” Bilbo licked his lips. “Please, can we just, not talk like this?”  
  
A knock came on the door and before either of them had a chance to answer Dís popped her head in.  
  
“So Gandalf is here to pick up Bilbo, is he- Oh I’m so sorry!” Dís exclaimed, her mouth turning into a shocked O. “Thorin I didn’t know you had company. Hi!” She waved at Bilbo. “I’m his sister, Dís, and I expect to see you both at breakfast. Bye!”

“You’re my kitten?” Thorin asked when they were alone again.  
  
“I’ve _never_ been a _kitten_ ,” Bilbo said tiredly.

“You’re Bilbo?”  
  
“Yes. Bilbo Baggins. Nice to, erm, meet you?”  
  
“And it’s Gandalf’s fault you were a, kitt-cat?”  
  
“Yes," Bilbo replied with remarkable patience for someone who had just been called a Kit Kat. Even if it hadn't been intentional.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Bilbo sighed. “I promise that neither of us are crazy. Gandalf might be, but regardless of that he appears to be a Wizard and-“  
  
“I knew Gandalf was a Wizard.”  
  
Bilbo blinked down on Thorin. “You did?”  
  
The door opened again, and Dís’ head appeared. “You like toast, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this is basically a set up for another story but NO promises as for when that will happen. :O  
> It wasn't meant to end this way :OO
> 
> Oh, and I sorta imagine Bilbo something like:
> 
>  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, this will be it for this story. Thank goodness. The first bit was so easy to write, this, not so much. Will read through this again tomorrow and try to correct any weirdness. 
> 
> If you want more, well, I most heartily approve of fanfic for fanfiction ;)

Going back to having two arms and two legs and no tail almost wreaked as much havoc with Bilbo’s balance as being turned into a cat had done in the first place. He hadn’t fallen off the bed when trying to get away from Thorin (was it a blessing or a tragedy that Thorin’s lower body had been covered by the sheet?) but it’d been a near thing. Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried snagging a pillow to cover himself with, but since _he_ had no sheet it only seemed fair.  
  
Not that Thorin had looked at him.  
  
Dressed in Thorin's clothes and with newly brushed teeth (blessed be the creators of the toothbrush) Bilbo trailed after Thorin as they walked down into the kitchen.  
  
The silence between them was awkward, embarrassing and all sorts of unpleasant things that made Bilbo try and curl his tail around himself. It would have gone a lot better if he still had one.  
  
After they’d gotten out of bed Thorin hadn’t really said more than two words to him. One word really. ‘Here’. Said when presenting Bilbo with clothes and then again with the toothbrush.  
  
It was _terribly_ unfair to have an awkward morning after without getting to have the night before. Especially when the other person involved was someone he was fairly sure he was in love with. There, he’d said it. Or thought it, rather. He was in love with Thorin. Probably. Because if he wasn’t Bilbo would like for the horrible squirmy feelings of guilt and doom and misery to please leave his stomach. It wasn’t like it was his fault that he turned into a cat anyway. And he’d tried to show Thorin, show all of them, that he wasn’t actually supposed to be in possession of four paws and whiskers, but no one had paid any attention.  
  
Bilbo ignored the thumbs up Dís flashed Thorin as they walked into the kitchen. And he definitely ignored how she mouthed 'nice arse'. Since Dís was ignoring that Thorin seemed about as cheerful as a lobster just before it was put in a pot of boiling water Bilbo figured that it was fair enough to ignore her in turn. But when she actually turned to give him a welcoming smile Bilbo felt obliged to return it. Baby talk or not, she’d given him enough ham to make up for it.  
  
" I didn't catch your name?" Dís said and gestured at him to take a seat at the table.  
  
"Gandalf!" Bilbo exclaimed as he noticed who was already sitting there. Narrowing his eyes the blond glared daggers at the tall, grey, absolute _bastard_ of a wizard calmly sipping his tea and nibbling on a cucumber slice.  
  
"Gandalf? That's a bit of a coincidence," Dís said, her eyebrows going up.  
  
"His name is Bilbo," Thorin said and flung himself into a chair with a deep sigh. Bilbo just barely refrained from congratulating Thorin for finding his tongue again.  
  
"That's also a bit of a coincidence.” Dís eyebrows climbed even higher.  
  
"You'd think," Thorin muttered, reaching out to grab a golden piece of toast.  
  
"You!" Bilbo sputtered, walking around the table to stop next to Gandalf.  
  
"Hello Bilbo," Gandalf said calmly and put his cup down. “You’re looking well.”  
  
Bilbo was going to strangle him with his hat. Except for how the sneaky bastard wasn’t actually wearing his hat. Right. It was to be asphyxiation by beard then.  
  
“I trust you had an interesting month?”  
  
A _slow_ throttling. No wait, he could make him _eat_ his own beard, and he could choke on it.  
  
“How could you do that to me?” Bilbo demanded. “You can’t just go about turning people into cats and then bugger off on your merry way without-“  
  
“Wait, what?” Dís asked.  
  
Thorin sighed and took a large bite out of his buttered toast. The crunching seemed to echo in the kitchen.  
  
“You’re our kitten?” Dís continued, her eyes huge, and her eyebrows seemed about to join forces with her hairline.  
  
“I’m not a _kitten_ ,” Bilbo said without turning away from Gandalf. “I wasn’t a kitten, I mean. I was a perfectly respectable cat.”  
  
“Would you rather have been without this last month?” Gandalf asked and met Bilbo’s glare with calm blue-grey eyes. “Was it that horrible?”  
  
Before he could stop himself Bilbo glanced back at Thorin, who didn’t meet his eyes and instead took another bite of his toast.  
  
“No,” Bilbo said slowly. “It wasn’t horrible.” Except for the car ride it hadn’t even been close to horrible. It had been… nice.  
  
“Would you like to stay a cat?” Gandalf asked, as if he could read thoughts…  
  
Bilbo thought intensely about what he’d like to do to Gandalf’s hat, but there was no reaction.  
  
Did he want to become a cat again? It was stupidly tempting to say yes. Maybe Thorin would be nice and pretend that this morning had never happened and Bilbo could go back to – to – to wishing he had hands and lips and a proper way to say ‘I might I love you’ without it coming out as chirping meows. No, he couldn’t be a cat. Not only wouldn’t he be allowed to stay here anymore, but fact remained that he wasn’t actually a cat. He liked having proper thumbs, even if remembering how to use them to button his shirt had taken half a minute.  
  
“No,” Bilbo said, forcing himself not to look at Thorin again. “No, I would not, but-“  
  
“Then, my dear boy, if you do not regret this month but you do not wish to remain a cat, don’t you think that my point has been well made?”  
  
“Morning,” Dwalin grunted as he entered the kitchen. “Is there waffles?”  
  
“If you make them,” Dís said, not looking away from Bilbo. “I’m a little busy trying to get to grips that we’ve lost our kitten.”  
  
“What?” Dwalin tilted his head as Bilbo muttered that he wasn’t and had never been a kitten. “Who’re you?”  
  
“That would be Bilbo,” Dís said and shook her head. “I guess I see the resemblance. The eyes, the little nose, the fluffy hair.”  
  
“You're the cat?” Dwalin asked as he sat down next to Thorin.  
  
“I was the cat,” Bilbo admitted. “I’d apologise about that, but it wasn’t my fault. And my hair isn’t _fluffy_.”  
  
Did one dare to smack wizard on the back of their thick heads or was that a sure-fire way of getting turned into a newt? If Gandalf snorted again Bilbo swore that he would find out.  
  
Dwalin hummed thoughtfully as he elbowed Thorin. “Pass the jam. So…” He turned his attention back to Bilbo, and quite unexpectedly he grinned. “Do you still like getting your belly scratched?”  
  
“Dwalin!” Thorin exclaimed.  
  
“You try it already?”  
  
Thorin’s lips thinned into nothingness and the look he gave Dwalin spoke of violence. Violent violence.  
  
“I’ll take that as a no,” Dwalin continued, blithely ignoring the looming threat of his own demise. “Dís, are there pancakes?”  
  
“Make your own pancakes,” she scolded. “Bilbo, would you please sit down?”  
  
“You’re all taking this very calmly,” Bilbo said as he ignored the chair Gandalf pulled out for him and instead went around the table to- he paused for half a moment when walking by Thorin, and instead sat down next to Dís.

“Eh,” Dwalin shrugged. “Spent three months as a badger once after that one-“ He pointed to Gandalf. “Told me that it would grow character or some rot like that. I’m sure it had nothing to do with me accidentally sitting down on his bloody hat.” Dwalin clapped Thorin on the shoulder. “And Thorin spent a week as a parrot learning to think before he spoke. So what did you do?

“Nothing,” Bilbo said as he glared daggers at Gandalf.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dís asked.  
  
“I tried!” Bilbo said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But you wouldn’t-“  
  
“I was actually talking to Gandalf, sweetheart,” Dís said and patted Bilbo’s hand.  
  
“You would hardly have treated him as a cat if you knew that he wasn’t one,” Gandalf said and took a slurping sip from his tea. “It would have defeated the purpose.”  
  
A headache had now settled down behind Bilbo’s eyes. While he was thankful that there was no panicked yelling and threats to burn him as a witch, everyone was taking his being a cat for a month a little too calmly. No one in the house had done _any_ magic as far as Bilbo had observed, so why were they all so blasé about being turned into furry and feathery critters?

Bilbo was thrown out of his musing when Dwalin reached over the table and gently smoothed his hand over Bilbo’s curls, down the side of his face. Before Bilbo could stop himself he’d leaned into the touch.  
  
“No purring?” Dwalin asked, his grin wide and teasing and friendly. And it was the last bit that allowed Bilbo to find his tongue and reply.  
  
“That wasn’t my belly,” Bilbo said with a haughty sniff. “I-“  
  
The sound of Thorin’s chair scratching against the floor was even louder than his crunching has been.  
  
“I do not find this amusing,” he said and gave Dwalin a dark look before briefly flicking his gaze over to Bilbo, but just as soon as it’d landed it was gone again. And so was Thorin.  
  
“So, waffles?” Dwalin asked, looking hopefully at Dís.  
  
“I said no.”  
  
“Thorin, wait,” Bilbo called, scrambling to get up from his chair. To sneak away with his now metaphorical tail between his legs (did cats even do that?) was tempting but he was a Baggins and not a coward. He needed to apologise to Thorin for deceiving him, even if it hadn’t been intentional. But Gandalf hadn’t been the one making him seek Thorin out and stay with him as he talked about his day, his life, his dreams…  
  
“Please,” Bilbo added as he dashed out into the hallway. “I need to talk to you.”  
  
Thorin halted with his hand on the bannister, his right foot resting on the first step in the staircase.  
  
“I think I've talked enough to you, wouldn't you say?” Thorin said stiffly, his back turned to Bilbo.   
  
“Then please hear me out?” Bilbo took a tentative step closer. “I never meant-“  
  
“Stop.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“No,” Thorin said and squared his shoulders. “I think it’s time for you to go.”  
  
Not waiting for Bilbo to reply, which considering that his tongue felt like a dead thing in his mouth likely would have taken a while, Thorin took his own advice and walked up the stairs. And Bilbo would not be allowed to run up beside him and follow him into the study and curl up in his lap. Ever again.  
  
“Dear boy,” Gandalf murmured behind Bilbo. “I’ll take you home now if that’s what you want.”  
  
Bilbo nodded slowly.  
  
-  
  
Dís followed them to the door and would not let Bilbo leave without a hug. It was a very nice hug, and when it lasted a little too long Bilbo didn’t complain.  
  
“I’m sorry that we made you pee in a litter box,” Dís said as she pulled back.  
  
“Quite all right,” Bilbo most certainly did not stutter. “I got used to it. And since you had to clean it I’d say we’re even.”  
  
“You were a lovely kitten,” Dís told him sincerely, and Bilbo didn’t have the heart to protest anymore.  
  
“Honey?” Víli entered the hallway with Kíli on his hip and Fíli trailing after him like a little duckling. “What’s going on?”  
  
If there was one thing that Bilbo didn’t want it was to add two teary children to the angry Thorin, and once the boys found out that their kitte- cat, damn it, cat, was missing that was likely what would happen. Sure, Bilbo was supposed to have gone home to his ‘owner’ sooner or later, but when had reason and logic ever worked on children?  
  
Snagging Gandalf’s sleeve Bilbo tugged the old man towards the door.  
  
“Bye then,” he told Dís. “Thank you. It’s been… It’s been wonderful.”  
  
“Do stop by again,” Dís said and smiled at him. “Regardless of how many legs you have.”  
  
“I-“ Bilbo couldn’t very well lie to her and tell her yes. But telling her no would be rude. “Perhaps.”  
  
Compromise was good, surely?  
  
“Bye,” he said again, nodding at Víli who looked rather confused. “And thanks for the chicken.”  
  
-  
  
Being back home was… miserable.

Objectively, Bilbo knew what being touched starved entailed. He wouldn't have said that he belonged it that category but... Perhaps he would have been wrong.   
  
As a cat he had gotten petted. A _lot_. No really. Bilbo had never been a relationship with anyone who had been happy to just touch him for hours. Much less several someone's. He'd gotten used to curling up in one lap after the other and being stroked and praised and (if it was Dís) showered with endearments.  
  
Dís had seemed inclined to continue as before, and Dwalin might be serious about the tummy rubbing (and if so bilbo didn't quite know what he thought about that) but that didn’t matter since Thorin now hated him. Things had seemed fine as long as they’d been in bed together, but as soon as they’d left it everything had gone tits over arse, and again, that wasn’t _fair_ as they’d not exactly done anything worthy of note in that bed. (With the exception of Bilbo turning from cat back into a man.)  
  
Also, his tail was missing. And he wasn't sure but his ears... when he'd looked in the mirror they'd looked a little more pointed than normal. But that was probably just imagination. And Bilbo hadn’t ever realised it before, but shoes were horrible. And each night as he tried to fall asleep it was too quiet, because he couldn’t purr.  
  
Not to say it was all bad being a human, but- Okay, fine. It was possible that Gandalf might have had a point. Bilbo missed being around other people. He missed being cared for and he missed having someone to care for in turn. He missed Thorin. Even more than he missed his tail. And he missed his tail like you’d miss a limb. Literally.  
  
-  
  
When his doorbell rang Bilbo groaned. It would either be Gandalf coming to act superior, or someone selling something. It pretty much amounted to the same level of annoyance either way.  
  
“Dwalin?” Bilbo asked as he opened the door.  
  
“Bilbo,” Dwalin acknowledged as he pushed past him into the hallway.  
  
“What are you doing here?” A horrible thought occurred to him. “Is everyone all right?”  
  
“No,” Dwalin said and shook his head. “And it’s going to get worse soon.”  
  
“What’s wrong?” Bilbo bit his lip. “I would have thought that the boys would have forgotten about me by now. It’s been a month.” One month without a cat would surely be enough to forget about the month with a cat. Even though one month not being a cat wasn’t anywhere near enough to-  
  
“The lads are fine,” Dwalin rumbled. “It’s Thorin.”  
  
“Thorin?” Bilbo took a step closer to Dwalin. “What’s wrong with Thorin.”  
  
“He’s being enough of a bastard that I’ll soon shave his beard off just so he can go around and be grumpy about something else for a change.” Dwalin toed his shoes off. “D’you have anything to eat?”  
  
So Thorin was still upset with him. Bilbo’s heart sank even as a tiny part of him cheered. At least Thorin hadn’t immediately forgotten him. Although… he was of course only missing his cat. Not- not really Bilbo. He’d missed an actual cat just as much, if not more.  
  
“There’s pie?” Bilbo offered. “Chicken pie.”  
  
Dwalin hummed in approval. “Lead the way.”  
  
“Do you want me to apologise to Thorin?” Bilbo asked as they walked into the kitchen. “Because I already tried that and he didn’t-“  
  
“I’d rather you snog him.” Dwalin strolled unashamedly over to the fridge and liberated the pie form from its shelf. “Plates?”  
  
“Right cupboard,” Bilbo said faintly. “ _Snog_ him?”  
  
Dwalin grinned as he plucked a knife from the magnetic rack hanging over the sink. “You heard me.”  
  
He cut a generous piece of pie and lifted it over to the plate.  
  
“I do have a microwave,” Bilbo pointed out once Dwalin had relocated to the table and begun to eat. “And cutlery.”  
  
“’s good this,” Dwalin grunted. “Have some?”  
  
“Thank you very much for allowing me to eat my own food,” Bilbo groused. “What do you mean by _snog him_?”  
  
“Unless you really don’t want to you should do it as a favour to humanity,” Dwalin mumbled, mouth full of pie. “I know my cousin, he’s not stopped thinking about you.”  
  
“Because he’s angry.” Bilbo’s shoulder drooped a little. “I can write him a letter and apologise?”  
  
“He might have started out angry-“ Dwalin burped. “’scuse me, but I know my cousin. And he’s not angry anymore.” The large man looked thoughtfully at the pie, his thick fingers twitching. “Are you having any?”  
  
“Go ahead,” Bilbo said and sank down on a chair. Resting his elbow on the table Bilbo propped his chin up on his fist and watched as Dwalin nudged the rest of the pie over on his plate. “But I hope you’re aware that you’re talking crazy talk.”  
  
Dwalin muttered something that came out as gibberish because the amount of pie in his mouth.  
  
“I think that just proved my point,” Bilbo mused.  
  
-  
  
As Dwalin was leaving, a jar of cookies and a bottle of milk later, he caught Bilbo up in a hug and began stroking his back with just firm enough sweeps of his hand. Bilbo melted. And quite possibly clung to Dwalin’s shirt like a damsel in distress taking out of some rubbish Harlequin novel.  
  
“You were a good kitten,” Dwalin rumbled. “Didn’t throw up in my shoes even once. Please come and put Thorin out of _all_ of our misery.”  
  
“It’s quite unfair to ask me something like that under duress,” Bilbo managed. “Stop _petting_ me. I’m not a cat anymore.”  
  
“Yeah I can tell how much you hate it.” Dwalin snorted. “I’ll not pet your belly though, Thorin would have my guts for garters. Jealous bastard.” A hand burrowed into Bilbo’s hair to gently scritch at his scalp, which mean that Dwalin wasn’t technically holding onto him anymore, which mean that Bilbo could just back away, and he would do so. Very soon.  
  
“Go out with my cousin,” Dwalin coaxed. “You know he’s not that bad. You lived with us for a month, that’s longer than most have managed.”  
  
Most? Something prickly and vicious reared itself up inside Bilbo at the thought of Thorin allowing others to sleep in his bed and curl up in his lap and purr while- well, maybe not the last bit.  
  
-

  
After Dwalin had left Bilbo thought long and hard about what to do. He didn’t at all trust that Dwalin really knew what he was talking about, Thorin was perfectly able to have long sulks, and it was possible that Dwalin was just desperate to find a solution. Any solution.  
  
But Bilbo missed Thorin. And the casual intimacy they’d shared. He missed sharp blue eyes and dark hair and his haughtiness and unexpected gentleness.  
  
Clearly, there was only one thing to do.  
  
-  
  
Bilbo adopted a cat.  
  
-  
  
Rex had gorgeous dark brown, almost black, fur and blue eyes. And already during the first minute after meeting him at the shelter he claimed Bilbo as his very own, hissing in protest when Bilbo moved away to look at other cats.  
  
When the nice lady rather sneakily let it slip that most people avoided older cats and poor Rex would perhaps never be adopted it was settled.  
  
-  
  
It was quite lovely to wake up to a ball of purring happiness curling itself around your head, albeit less lovely when Rex woke him up in the middle of the night, breath smelling like cat food. But even that Bilbo learned to appreciate. It was nice, having someone miss him even though he was just sleeping.  
  
Not that such feelings stopped Rex from spending most of his days sleeping and or lazing about, but accusing a cat of being something of a hypocrite felt petty.  
  
To say that Bilbo was worried then morning when Rex curled up in the crook of his arm before letting out a truly pathetic sneeze, followed by a series of even more tragic sneezes, well, it would not be an exaggeration. And when Rex didn’t even protest about being tucked away inside the cat carrier and driven to the vet (and Bilbo knew very well how horrible cars were) the worry tripled.  
  
Enough that he might have been a little short with the young man at the reception when he was told that as he didn’t have an appointment he would need to wait. Said young man was not affected by angry mutterings and pointed Bilbo to the waiting room.  
  
“It’ll be all right, Rex,” Bilbo said and poked a finger through one of the square holes in the door to the carrier. “I promise.”  
  
The cat sighed, but when Bilbo stretched his finger as far as it would go the cat deigned to rub his cheek against it.  
  
Still, no matter how worried Bilbo was; when he entered the waiting room and noticed who else was waiting, he almost turned on his heel and left, but that would hardly have been fair to Rex.  
  
Thorin looked almost as surprised as Bilbo felt.  
  
“Hullo,” Bilbo said as he sat down on a chair two chairs over from Thorin’s, settling the carrier in his lap.  
  
“Meow?” Thorin’s coat pocket said, and a small orange head peaked out.  
  
Now _that’s_ a kitten, Bilbo almost said.  
  
Inside the carried Rex made an inquisitive sound. When Bilbo was too busy staring at Thorin and trying to make himself invisible to talk to him he yowled.  
  
“Shh, Rex,” Bilbo scolded. “That’s not how we behave in public.”  
  
“You’ve named a cat Rex?” Thorin said, as if that was somehow relevant to anything.

“It’s a perfectly respectable name,” Bilbo sniffed.  
  
“For a _dog_.”  
  
Rex hissed. “Yes,” Bilbo hooked a couple of fingers through the holes in the door. “I know that you don’t like dogs. No need to curse.”  
  
The kitten in Thorin’s pocket meeped and a tiny paw popped up to flail in the air as it tried to climb out. Bilbo did not at experience a flash of something hot running down his spine as big, strong hands gently helped the kitten out of the pocket. And he absolutely did not think of where he’d prefer for those hands to end up.  
  
“What’s yours called then?” Bilbo asked.  
  
“Her name is Burglar,” Thorin said shortly and Bilbo blinked.  
  
“Oh, as in a cat burglar? That’s rather clever I guess. But won't your neighbours worry if you go about shouting about burglars?”  
  
Thorin had shouted his name often enough when Bilbo accidentally on purpose surprised him with a sudden leap up, or down, into his lap. (And no, Bilbo had never, _ever_ , pictured that situation only without himself not actually being a cat.)  
  
“What neighbours?” Thorin asked.  
  
Bilbo thought back to leaving the house. He couldn’t actually remember seeing any neighbouring houses, but then again, he’d been a little busy wallowing in misery at the time to even bother with his surroundings. And during his arrival he’d been too busy wanting someone to put him out of his misery to care.  
  
Dwalin’s words flashed unbidden into Bilbo’s head, about how he’d asked Bilbo to put Thorin out of his misery. Clearly he’d been mistaken, all Thorin had needed was a kitten that was not only a kitten, but also a _kitten_.  
  
He-  
  
“I’m sorry,” Thorin said, a thick finger gently stroking over small ears as the kitten settled down in his palm.  
  
“Excuse me?” Bilbo asked, telling himself that it wouldn’t do to be jealous of a kitten.  
  
“For the way I behaved when we last saw each other.”  
  
“No I-“ Bilbo sighed. “I would probably have been upset too.” He looked around and there was no one else in the waiting room, but he lowered his voice anyway. “If Rex turned out to be a human I would- well I would honestly question his sanity considering that he keeps trying to eat any plastic bag I leave out, but-“  
  
“Be that as it may, I am still sorry,” Thorin said and glanced away briefly before turning his much too pretty eyes back to Bilbo. “It was not your fault, what happened.”  
  
No, it was Gandalf's, and his stupid magic that no one would explain properly. Not that Bilbo had asked anyone besides Gandalf about it, but still! However, that was hardly relevant to the matter at hand.  
  
“For the record,” Bilbo said. “I'm perfectly willing to tell you all sorts of awkward things about myself to even things out.”  
  
“Is this your way of saying that I spoke to you of awkward things?” Thorin asked, a hint of stiffness settling over his shoulders.  
  
“No, that’s not-“ Bilbo jumped a little when Rex licked his fingers with a raspy tongue and then sneezed. “I just meant that the things you told me were hardly things you’d shared with me voluntarily. While I look like this,” he added and gestured at himself. “It was hardly fair.”  
  
“I’ve had words with Gandalf,” Thorin said darkly. “He is well aware of what I think about his pranks.”  
  
“Did Dwalin tell the truth when he said that Gandalf once turned you into a parrot?”  
  
A wry smile touched Thorin’s lips. “I’ve never known Dwalin to lie. It’s one of his more annoying qualities.”

Oh. Did that mean-? What Dwalin had said while- Probably not. But-  
  
“And he’s often annoyingly perceptive,” Thorin continued. “Which does not help.”  
  
Maybe… Just maybe. But - what did Bilbo have to lose? His dignity? That had been tossed at the wayside the first time he used a litter box.  
  
“I miss you,” Bilbo said, glancing away when Thorin's eyes widened in shock. “I don’t want to be a cat again, but I do miss you, and the others.”  
  
Rex, with his usual abysmal timing, chose that moment to start to purr. Loudly. It sounded as if Bilbo had trapped a small, but very happy, thundercloud in the carrier.  
  
Apparently not one to be outdone Thorin’s kitten began to purr as well. She didn’t quite pull off thundercloud, more like a very determined grasshopper.  
  
“Dwalin stopped by a while back,” Bilbo continued when Thorin didn’t say anything.  
  
“He did?” Thorin asked, his eyes narrowing.  
  
“Yes, to tell me that you wanted to go on a date with me,” Bilbo said and worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “Was that true?”  
  
“Thorin Oakenshield?” A tall, redheaded woman dressed in blue scrubs had appeared in the doorway. “We’re ready for you and Burglar now.”  
  
“Thank you,” Thorin said, nodding at her. He rose to his feet, and as he did so Bilbo’s heart sank.  
  
“I don’t ‘date’,” Thorin said firmly, and Bilbo’s heart settled somewhere around his knees. “But-“ Thorin hesitated. “I’d not say no to meeting you again. Perhaps over dinner?”  
  
“That’s a date,” Bilbo said, somewhat dazedly.  
  
“Dating is an activity for teenagers,” Thorin as a corner of his mouth curled up in distaste. “I do not date.”  
  
“Then I would love to go on a not-date with you,” Bilbo said, looking up into blue eyes.  
  
When Thorin smiled Bilbo’s heart leapt up from his knees and settled back into his chest to perform an impromptu jig.  
  
“Good,” was all Thorin said.  
  
“Great,” Bilbo said.  
  
“Mister Oakenshield?” the redheaded woman said.  
  
“You know where I live,” Bilbo said and pressed Rex’ carried a little closer to his chest. “Dinner is served at seven for both cats and humans.”  
  
“Good to know,” Thorin said and nodded down at him. “I’ll, I’ll see you, Bilbo.”  
  
“I’ll look forward to it.”  
  
Once Bilbo and Rex were alone in the waiting room he turned the carrier so he could look at his cat.  
  
“I know I said that things would be all right, but I didn’t really meant it like _this_.”  
  
Rex responded with a sneeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't get a proper ending to stick, so we'll end this here.
> 
> The sneezing turned out to be nothing worse than a pollen allergy, which meant that while Thorin was sweet enough to bring flowers as he showed up for dinner they were immediately banished back outside again. 
> 
> And then they lived happily ever after. Bilbo and Thorin that is, because the flowers wilted. Poor flowers. 
> 
> The origin of Burglar's name is that Thorin couldn't stop himself from automatically going "B-"  
> So a name beginning with B was needed. And Víli has a stupid sense of humour, but the name just seemed to fit.
> 
> As for Rex' name, can you figure it out?
> 
> Oh, and it didn't really fit in the story, but Thorin's kitten is there to get vaccinated, and there is a cat carrier, but she likes riding around in Thorin's pockets when she's allowed to. This will be a problem when she's bigger, but she'll start curling himself around Thorin's shoulders instead.


End file.
